


Some Scars Don't Heal

by Jerkson (Jcksn)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jcksn/pseuds/Jerkson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson just wants to survive, but surviving isn't living until she meets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Scars Don't Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson keeps herself shrouded in mystery, even from her closest friends. She leaves home and doesn't come home that night, heading south from the Big Apple.

 

Jackson rolled over, an alarm clock blaring on her nightstand.

She reached her hand out, slamming down on it. "Shut the fuck up." Her voice cracked, eyes puffy, knuckles split and bruised.

The pink tint around her tired eyes contrasted drastically with their blue shade. Her short hair was tussled and all over the place.

She slowly moved her short frame, getting up and shuffling her body to the dresser in the small room with basic white walls. The only thing that stood out were the multiple guitars and amplifiers that were placed along one wall.

She opened the dresser drawers, slowly pulling out clothing. Her night clothing had consisted of a pair of long shorts and a grey shirt with 'Dan's Muscle Shop' on the front with a wrench below it.

She shuffled out the room and to the next door on the left, into the bathroom, setting her clothes down on the counter to the sink before she made her way back out into the hall, heading to the end, to the living room. She headed towards the stereo system, turning it on to the local classic rock station.

She headed back to the bathroom, her roommates were heard loudly conversing in the kitchen. She sighed, walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She started the water, stripping her clothing off before getting in the shower, carefully washing her sore and beat-up body. She carefully washed her short hair, it was just below her eyebrows, and she would be shaving it again soon.

Every year she raised money for childhood cancer research, She went through a program called Saint Baldricks. Her first year people thought she was nuts because her hair was just to her hips.

She smiled slightly, gently washing the shampoo out before scrubbing down the rest of her body. She stepped out soon after.

She shut the water off and wrapped a towel around herself. She was in no means skinny but she was muscular and had a fairly large bust, accompanied by wide hips and thick thighs. She sighed, drying herself off before slipping on her undergarments. She ran dried her hair, before pulling on a pair of simple black jeans and a black shirt with 'I'll Stop Wearing Black When They Make A Darker Color' across the front in white. She hummed as she slipped on socks.

She brushed her teeth, and brushed her hair to the side before departing from the bathroom. She slid down the hall, singing along to the Pearl Jam song that was blaring through the sound-system in the house.

She headed into the kitchen, greeting the three other people in the kitchen. She smiled brightly, kissing the boy with fading teal hair on the top of the head. "Morning guys. Who wants some waffles?"

The boy with teal hair and a girl with blonde locks both shouted at the same time in response. Jackson giggled.

"How many?"

"Two!" The boy responded.

"Just one." The girl said.

"Two for Soren, One for Maggie. Gottcha." Jackson responded. She quickly made them waffles and sat down opposite of them, eating her own. Maggie reached out after a moment, grabbing her hand.

"What the fuck happened?" Her voice sounded cold, deadly.

Jackson ripped her hand back, glaring at Maggie before going back to eating.

Soren watched, frowning. "Jackson, are you alright?"

"Shut the fuck up." She mumbled, grabbing her plate and setting it in the sink. She walked to the door, slipping her boots on. "I have shit to do, See you later." She mumbled, grabbing her keys, sunglasses, helmet and gloves. She moved quickly down the three floors into the garage below the apartment building. She walked to the bike that was parked close the door. She pulled on her helmet and gloves before swinging her leg over the side of the bike. She started the bike, revving the engine.

It was a red Harley Davidson 2006 Sportster, a gift for her birthday. Nothing special but a prized possession. Her father owned it before her. It was still in good condition, she tried her best to keep it perfect, just like he did.

She drove out of the underground parking area. She slowly made her way out of the busy New York City streets, heading south, out of the big city, heading towards the border between said city and Pennsylvania. 

She managed to get onto a back road, speeding up greatly along the straight-away. She was facing a long drive, three hours. She would have to make a few stops, fuel back up, take a piss-break or two.

Her goal was to get to the York County Prison, maybe actually go in this time. Her ex-fiance was confined in a cell in said prison, for attempting murder. She frowned a bit, continuing to drive.

Three stops and two bathroom breaks later she was there. She stood out in the parking lot, gazing at the towering building. She had her helmet off. She angrily wiped away tears. She tugged her helmet back on, fastening it before hoping back on her bike and starting it and driving south again. She didn't plan on going home any time soon. It wasnt often that she did this but she did do it. The first time she did Maggie almost called and filed a missing person report.

She drove and drove, till she had to stop for gas. She filled the tank, before finding a motel. She bought a room, watching the sun set. She was just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina. She watched the city's lights glimmering from the window of her hotel room.

She frowned a bit, using the hotel's phone, calling the house and leaving a message, telling Maggie not to freak the fuck out.

She then sighed, glancing at the city one last time, before resting her head on the dingy and disgusting looking pillow. She tried to relax but it was hard to, she knew tonight would be a rough one, and the cuts in her knuckles were throbbing.

Eventually she managed to drift off to sleep.


End file.
